


with a taste of a poison paradise

by bbeanseu



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Implied Sexual Content, Lack of Communication, M/M, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Theres lots of it, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbeanseu/pseuds/bbeanseu
Summary: "Where’s your boyfriend?”“Boyfriend?” Cha Hakyeon snorts. He’s raised his eyebrows, and when Hongbin turns to look at him he notices for the first time that night the glassy quality in his red-rimmed eyes, the tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. “Why do you think I’m here?”;In which Hongbin is numb, tired, and reckless enough to throw himself into one bad decision after another.
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Lee Hongbin, Cha Hakyeon | N/Lee Jaehwan (Implied), Lee Hongbin/Lee Jaehwan (Implied)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 35





	with a taste of a poison paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older fic i wrote from like a year ago!! It was from a different fandom initially but I reread it and went: listen,, this,, but chabin. So I reworked it. And now I'm kinda proud of it. 
> 
> Anyways! I hope you enjoy!

There are a lot of seedy little bars in Korea. Bars where the heat gets to your head and makes it feel a little light. Bars where the constant bass echoing across the walls weakens your resolve little by little, tempting you to order another shot of whiskey, or talk to the somewhat attractive guy sitting at the end of the bar all alone, or go to the middle of the suffocating crowd and find lose yourself in the heat and the music for at least a little while.

Hongbin’s the one sitting at the bar tonight. The music’s thumping with the beat of his heart, and the lights are bright and fuzzy and blurry as they float mid-air in colourful spurts. The room’s spinning around him. His pale grip around the shot glass tightens.

“Heads up,” Hongbin mutters, throwing his head back and downing his whiskey in one swift motion, cringing at the burn in his throat and the bitter taste coating his tongue.

It tastes like ass. It tastes worse than that. Hongbin orders another one—

He hears someone scoff. Hongbin scowls, his head swaying to the side when he turns around to look behind him, and he’s greeted with a face that he’d makes his heart twist and his stomach clench.

It’s a haze, a blur blending into the strobe lights and the mass of bodies behind him, but Hongbin can never mistake the way those lips twist into a very unique breed of sneer whenever he and Hongbin cross paths for anyone else.

“Cha Hakyeon,” he says darkly, not even trying to hide the toxic lacing his words. Cha Hakyeon’s sneer twists into a blatantly fake imitation of a saccharine smile. Hongbin clenches his fists. Hakyeon’s posture is confident and _perfect_ , disgustingly so, which Hongbin _knows_ must be the stick shoved so far up his ass it’s made his spine permanently straight. And the overly-sweet, fake smile is starting to make his blood boil. At least _Hongbin’s_ not being fake and indirect about how much he dislikes Cha Hakyeon.

“Lee Hongbin,” Cha Hakyeon says lightly, disgusting smile still plastered on his face— and, as if he hadn’t been being infuriating enough, he has the fucking _gall_ to sit on the empty stool next to Hongbin’s. Hongbin sneers at him, scooting his chair a little to the left, farther away from him— to which Cha Hakyeon only snorts before ordering something that sounded fancy and condescending.

“Here to ruin my night are you?” Hongbin mutters. Hakyeon only clicks his tongue, nonplussed, delicately taking the drink the bartender offers him. It’s fucking _pink_ , and he’s raising his little finger while he drinks from it.

Hongbin doesn’t know why he has to be here, acting all— superior, and classy, and _fancy_.

“Don’t be stupid, Lee Hongbin,” Cha Hakyeon says, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s the one who has the right to be annoyed. “Not everything is about you.”

Hongbin sends him an icy glare.

“Then what are you doing here?” he says under his breath. The alcohol’s started to make his head spin, and the glare from the too-bright lights and the obnoxiously loud hip-hop beat blasting from the speakers are just adding fuel to the fire, and Cha Hakyeon’s presence— Cha Hakyeon, sitting there next to him, taking small sips from his dumb fucking cocktail with his raised pinkie finger and his flawless posture— _really_ isn’t helping things. The longer they sit there, barely tolerating each other’s presence, the more Hongbin remembers just how fucking _pretty_ Cha Hakyeon actually is.

He moves like liquid electricity, like a thin ribbon waving in the wind. His jaw’s defined and his eyes are sharp and narrow and alluring, and partly hidden behind a mop of rich, black curls.

And Hongbin hates it, _loathes_ it, with every fibre of his being. 

(And Jaehwan’s always loved pretty things.

And Hongbin’s not pretty.

And Hongbin will definitely never be as pretty as Cha Hakyeon.)

“I’m getting a drink,” Cha Hakyeon says simply. The words are clear, slow, like he’s speaking to a child. Hongbin scowls.

Hongbin has never liked Cha Hakyeon, because Cha Hakyeon is simply just too— _pretty_. If Hongbin was honest to himself, he’d call him beautiful. He’s never liked Cha Hakyeon, because he grinds on Hongbin’s nerves and is far too much of a dick, and he’s not lost on how charming it is, how seductive.

He just wishes—

Hongbin just wishes he had what it was.

That _something_ Cha Hakyeon has and Hongbin doesn’t.

That _something_ that makes Jaehwan so— smitten with him. 

Hongbin isn’t bitter. Hongbin isn’t broken up about it. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Hongbin is a liar.

“Boyfriend?” Cha Hakyeon snorts. He’s raised his eyebrows, and when Hongbin turns to look at him he notices for the first time that night the glassy quality in his red-rimmed eyes, the tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. “Why do you think I’m here?”

The jealous, ugly part of Hongbin thinks, _Good for him_ , and he doesn’t feel bad.

“To get a drink,” he says lamely. He turns back to the bartender, unnerved by the eye contact. “Can I get another beer?”

“No,” Cha Hakyeon says suddenly. The bartender pauses in the middle of reaching for a bottle. Hakyeon nods in the direction of his sparkly pink beverage. “Get him one of these.”

He even pays for it.

“What are you playing at?”

“Just fucking take it, Hongbin, _God_.”

Hongbin grudgingly takes the offered drink. He takes a sip, immediately shuddering at the sudden sweetness that attacks his tongue. 

“Cheers,” Cha Hakyeon says.

It’s purely out of instinct that Hongbin glances at him.

And Hongbin doesn't know what it means, but Cha Hakyeon's looking back. 

He doesn’t know how it happens.

But it’s not long before they’re stumbling out of the bar, scrabbling at each other’s clothes, Hongbin’s tongue on Cha Hakyeon’s throat, fingers roaming under his shirt. He wishes he could say how they thought it was a good idea, climbing into a hastily-hailed taxi cab, ignoring how the driver glances at them every once in a while in discomfort.

But all Hongbin can remember are fingers tugging at his hair and a weight on his lap and the searing heat of Cha Hakyeon’s lips on his own. All he can remember is being pushed against a wall once they’re out of the cab, not even a breathless question of _your place or mine_ spilling in the electricity between them. All Hongbin can remember is a feverish blur of frustration and hormones and the intoxicating, addictive thrill of adrenaline and recklessness, and nails raking down his back—

And burning lips on his throat, his collarbones, his _everywhere_ — kisses and bites and little sucks— and the roll of Cha Hakyeon’s hips, and the sparks jolting down Hongbin’s spine as he arched his back in return—

Hongbin’s got his fingers tangled in Cha Hakyeon’s curls, and he keeps his eyes on the ceiling, because maybe if he doesn’t look at him the weight in his chest will feel a little less heavy.

Hongbin’s in Hakyeon’s shower.

He’s staring at the wall, letting the water crash into him and dribble down his skin. Guilt is crawling and coiling all over his insides. The water’s starting to get into his eyes but he’s afraid of closing his them, afraid of letting the memories fill the darkness and replay over and over again like a broken record, mocking and cruel.

He’s a horrible excuse for a best friend, he thinks, still staring at the unblemished white tiles he’s resting his forehead against. A pathetic best friend. A shitty human being in general. Hongbin squeezes his eyes shut, and the memory of Cha Hakyeon’s tantalizing eyes— half-lidded and dilated and staring at him with his lips closed around the rim of his carafe – resurfaces from the deepest, locked-off places of his mind. Hongbin banishes the thought away.

Who sleeps with their best friend’s ex-boyfriend?

Hongbin absently turns the shower off. He dries his hair, his skin— littered with bruises with marks with the phantom memories of Cha Hakyeon’s mouth and hands and teeth— and no, no, _no_ , he can’t think about that right now. He tugs his last night’s wrinkled clothes off from where they’re hanging, pulls them on with his mind still far away.

He’d hoped the shower would wash off the nausea, the dirty feeling lingering on and under his skin, but he supposes it hadn’t been enough.

When Hongbin steps out of the shower, Cha Hakyeon is sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He’s got his clothes on, now, though the covers are still messy and his hair still sticking out in odd directions.

“Were you thinking about Jaehwan?” Hakyeon asks around an unlit cigarette between his teeth. He’s got a smile on his face, but it’s annoyingly vague and Hongbin can’t bring himself to summon the strength to read deeper into it.

Hakyeon lights the cigarette. He inhales. Smoke spills out between them, thick like the tension hanging in the atmosphere.

Hongbin almost says, “ _Were_ you _?”_

But he bites that back and takes a deep breath, settling for a sneer instead. He turns the confusion into anger, the guilt into the more familiar hatred, because that’s easier. This is easier.

“Nobody should know,” he hisses in a low voice, even though nobody else is around to hear. He forces his shoulders to be stiff, sturdy, secure, keeps his gaze stubbornly locked with Cha Hakyeon’s, eyes narrowed as he pointedly ignores the fact that his insides are on the verge of falling apart.

And Cha Hakyeon only laughs and takes a hit.

“What?” he barks out in between his laughter, the word sharp and snide and mocking. His mouth has curled into a condescending smirk, “That you fucked your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, or that you were thinking about Jaehwan while you did it?”

Hongbin doesn’t look away.

Cha Hakyeon stands up and walks towards a nearby coffee table, Hongbin’s gaze trailing his every move. “Not to mention,” Hakyeon says airily, “Your best friend’s your ex, too, isn’t he?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongbin snarls, clenching his fists, and Cha Hakyeon must be a maniac because all he does is laugh even harder.

“Relax, Lee Hongbin-ssi,” Cha Hakyeon says, voice tinged with amusement, tapping the cigarette stick against an ashtray. He brings it to his lips and breathes it in, before releasing another puff of smoke. He crushes the butt against the coffee table and starts to walk towards him, and with every step he takes Hongbin can feel the pounding of his heart going stronger. He steps back, purely on instinct, but Cha Hakyeon only steps closer. “How stupid do you think I am?”

His laughter has faded, but the unnerving, unreadable smile stays. He licks his lips. “Want a hit?”

Hongbin spares a glance at them., before his gaze flits back to Hakyeon’s eyes.

“Fuck off,” he grimaces, before he turns and leaves.

It was a one-time thing.

That’s what Hongbin tells himself. That’s what Hongbin swears to himself.

It had been a mistake. He’d been drunk and sad and stupid, and it had been a dumb decision that will never be repeated again. It had been a one-time thing and will _remain_ a one-time thing.

Thinking about it that way makes him feel better. Thinking about it that way makes it feel distant, like it had been a mere fever dream. Nobody knows about it. Nobody _will_ know about it, He intends on keeping it that way.

And life goes on.

That night remains a distant, washed-out memory locked away in Hongbin’s mind, never to be let out. He drowns it out with newer memories, with anger, with hatred. He doesn’t think about it, even when he has to stay by Jaehwan’s side rebound after rebound, fling after fling, even if it hurts like something’s clawing its way out from inside his heart, tearing out of his chest.

And he continues to glower and glare and scowl at Cha Hakyeon, and Cha Hakyeon continues standing straight and drinking with his pinkie finger lifted and talking to Hongbin with his thinly-veiled passive aggressiveness and fake, mocking courtesy.

And life goes on, and Hongbin doesn’t let himself think about a bright pink beverage glowing underneath neon strobe lights, or seedy bars that leave him feeling reckless and stupid, or Cha Hakyeon’s eyes and the feeling of having his face buried in soft cotton sheets.

Jaehwan gets a girlfriend eventually. Hongbin thinks they’re going steady. Hongbin tells himself this might be it, because they’re sweet, they’re cute, they hold hands and smile at each other like they’re lost in their own little world.

The thing is that it isn’t _it_ , and they’re not going to last very long. They’re going to break up sooner rather than later, Hongbin can tell. With Jaehwan, Hongbin can always tell. So he files her away, makes a mental note to ask Sanghyuk or Taekwoon or Wonshik what the girl’s name is later, ignoring the underlying pain slowly swelling out from the inside of his soul.

And, like the mature college student he is, finds himself with a hesitant hand lifted over the surface of Hakyeon’s door.

Hongbin leans his head against the door, taking a deep breath, questioning each and every life choice that had led him to this specific moment. He presses his lips together and exhales loudly, throwing caution to the wind with a single press of the doorbell.

It’s mere moments later that Cha Hakyeon opens the door.

“God,” he says, “Aren’t you desperate.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongbin snaps, to which Cha Hakyeon merely shrugs. He makes a face when he steps aside to let Hongbin in, and when the door swings shut behind them both the atmosphere grows thicker, static shocks buzzing in the space between their bodies. Cha Hakyeon doesn’t move. Hongbin himself doesn’t move.

 _What the fuck am I doing here_ , he thinks, hands trembling. _Why did I think this was a good idea—_

But Cha Hakyeon is stepping closer and all thoughts disappear; and Hongbin finds himself looking at him, waiting, the slow rumble of want making itself known in the pit of his stomach. For a moment more they simply stare, their shoulders taut and their hands twitching to reach forward, touch, take. Cha Hakyeon’s lips curl into that small smile that’s always on his lips, the one Hongbin can never read, the one that sends Hongbin’s heart racing.

He takes a step closer, placing his palms flat on the surface of the wall next to Hongbin’s ear. He’s leaning forward. His eyes are half-lidded. His pupils are blown. His tongue is flitting out to lick over his lips, leaving them glossy and pink and the thought of them is enough to send shivers rushing through Hongbin’s entire frame, and—

And Hongbin’s strong; he can back out, easily push him away, but what he does is surge closer and meet Cha Hakyeon’s lips in the middle.

And the kiss is open mouthed, sloppy and wet, driven by anger and desperation and heartbreak. It hurts, somewhere in his heart, but the ache is strangely sweet and Hongbin kisses deeper, chasing that sweet, intoxicating heartbreak—

Cha Hakyeon pulls back, wiping his mouth with his free hand. “You’re a shit kisser.”

“You weren’t complaining before, so shut the fuck up,” Hongbin hisses, pulling him by the collar and slotting their lips together once again.

And it should be gross, Hongbin thinks. It should be disgusting, the way their tongues slide over each other’s in a strangely synchronized tandem, but Hongbin’s body feels like it’s on fire from the inside. Cha Hakyeon pulls his hand back so he can press Hongbin up against the wall, and Hongbin kisses back like he’s drowning, hands pulling at shirts, scalp aching pleasantly every time he feels hands pull at his hair.

The bitterness and heartbreak and jealousy gets pushed away to the sidelines, momentarily replaced by the high, the pleasant tremors rippling across his nerves, the way his skin burns under the other man’s touch. It’s oddly cathartic, in a way.

Hongbin bites down on Cha Hakyeon’s lower lip, and the latter hisses into the kiss, his grip around Hongbin’s hair tightening.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, pulling back. His lips are swollen and red and bruised, and there’s a hot red blush smattered on his cheeks, and his hair is a mess of curls sticking out in every single direction— and Hongbin can’t help the pride that rises in his chest, a little. This is his doing. Cha Hakyeon is a mess because of _him_. his voice is raspy, his eyes darkening even more. “Is that how you play it, Lee Hongbin?”

“Shut up,” Hongbin says. Cha Hakyeon laughs and pulls his hair again.

They fuck on Cha Hakyeon’s couch, a mess of pulling each other’s hair, of angry bites and searing kisses and the sting of nails digging into skin. Hongbin scowls, rasping out breathless insults in between grunts and moans, and Cha Hakyeon sneers right back, condescends, even as Hongbin’s hands leave him undone.

Their hands make bruises bloom on each other’s skin, angry red marks that hurt too good, and everything burns but Hongbin lets himself be swallowed by the flames.

“Were you thinking of Jaehwan?”

Cha Hakyeon isn’t smoking the next time he asks the question. Hongbin doesn’t look at him, focusing on putting his socks on, then his shoes. He mulls the question over in his head, and he does try to remember, but—

But as far as he can tell he’d blanked out, had focused only on the hands on his skin, the fire in his veins, the addicting rush of adrenaline.

The thought of it makes his skin crawl.

“…No,” he admits finally, voice tight, blood cold, body numb except for the burning shame that had replaced the exhilaration he’d felt. He can’t explain it, can’t understand it.

But it’s there, along with the guilt, and with all the commotion he’d nearly let himself forget—

And Cha Hakyeon only smiles at him, pushing a slip of paper into his palm. Hongbin stares at it for a moment, barely processing the digits written neatly in Cha Hakyeon’s elegant handwriting. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The older man shrugs. “What do you think, genius?”

Hongbin scowls. “For what?”

He has half a mind to just crush it in his palm, throw it in the trash on his way out. But something’s stopping him, and he merely keeps staring at it.

“Well,” Cha Hakyeon says. He looks Hongbin up and down, and Hongbin can feel his cheeks heat up despite himself. He only snorts in response, shaking his head. “Considering what just happened, I highly doubt this won’t be happening again.”

Hongbin’s cheeks burn hotter. Cha Hakyeon’s voice is unbearably smug, and he’s smirking as he returns Hongbin’s stare, eyebrows raised like he’s challenging Hongbin to argue. The look on his face makes Hongbin suppress the sudden urge to punch him in the nose.

“Fuck you,” he says smartly.

“Fuck you,” Cha Hakyeon retorts, still as smug as before.

“Arrogant prick,” Hongbin mutters, shoving the small strip of paper into his pocket. He finally finishes putting on his shoes, and he stands up without another word, eyes stubbornly trained in front of him.

“I’ll see you around, Lee Hongbin,” he hears Cha Hakyeon call. Hongbin rolls his eyes, pulling his hood over his head. He slams the door on the way out and stares at his feet the entire way home, making his way back to his place on autopilot. He hails a cab and stares at his lap the rest of the way home.

When he’s finally in the comfort of his flat, Hongbin goes straight to the bathroom.

He stays under the harsh spray of steaming water for what feels like hours. He scrubs until his skin is raw and pink, until the pads of his fingers start to raisin and his whole body is red. He stands there until he can’t feel the heat anymore, until he can’t tell the difference between the hot flashes from the water and the ones from the thought of having Cha Hakyeon’s personal phone number sitting rumpled in the back pocket of last night’s jeans.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he tells himself, watching as steam fogs up the glass. “It’s just a number. It’s just sex.”

Sex, he thinks. With Cha Hakyeon. Hongbin shivers, despite the heat. He bites his lip and takes a deep breath.

Hongbin leans against the cold surface of the bathroom tiles, fingers twitching for— _something_.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

Hongbin sits on his bed, staring at the newly-plugged number on his phone. He purses his lips; saves the number as _Cha Hakyeon_.

With a defeated sigh, he collapses on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It’s always just sex.

Hongbin likes it that way. It gives him an outlet, keeps his mind off of things, and feels good. It’s convenient. And when the shame and guilt rise every time he looks at Jaehwan, he just swallows it down like a bitter pill, hiding behind the rationalization of _it’s just sex_.

 _News flash_ , Hongbin thinks bitterly, _Lee Hongbin is a fucking coward_.

But he keeps calling Cha Hakyeon anyway, calls him for the sole reason of _Hongbin is bored and wants to hook up_ . and sometimes it’s the other way around too, because Cha Hakyeon is _full of pent up emotion and needs a fuck_ and they never dig deeper than that.

Hongbin really doesn’t mind.

And it had been a mistake, really, calling at three in the morning, but Cha Hakyeon picks up before Hongbin can finish panicking to press the _end call_ button. Hongbin swears under his breath when he hears his voice coming through the earbuds, sounding sleep-addled and annoyed. “Why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

His voice is rough, husky, but there’s a whole different quality to it that makes it sound so similar yet completely different at the same time. Hongbin inhales sharply through his nose, wondering if he should just hang up. Static silence hangs between them.

“You there? I’m hanging u-“

“I don’t know,” Hongbin blurts out, before he mentally kicks himself upside the head. There’s silence on the other line, but the call doesn’t cut, so he keeps going. “I couldn’t sleep.”

There’s a sigh. Hongbin can just barely figure the roll of eyes, “And I like my sleep. Call Jaehwan.”

Hongbin glares at blank space, even if he knows it can’t be seen over the phone. “I’m not waking Jaehwan up. He hates being woken up,” he says, bristling when he hears a snort.

“So do I. Goodnight—”

“Wait.”

Pause.

Cha Hakyeon still isn’t hanging up. More silence hangs over them. It makes Hongbin antsy. He scours his brain, scra,bling for words to say.

“Well?”

He sounds impatient. Hongbin cringes.

“I don’t know. I can’t sleep. Just— a lot of emotions tonight.”

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up_ , he tells himself, wrapping blankets around his shoulders. _Why are you telling him this you don’t even like him._ And he doesn’t _get it_ , because he normally isn’t even this open with his friends, even less the person he loathes the most.

But here he is, on the phone at an ungodly hour, with only the light from his TV screen shining on his face— talking to Cha Hakyeon of all people.

He expects a retort, something along the lines of telling him to fuck off again, or stop asking for sex so early in the morning. But then there’s nothing, only a soft hum from the other side of the call.

So Hongbin keeps going.

“I tried gaming,” he says, looking at the TV screen. “Three hours nonstop of the new Animal Crossing. Then I went to fighting games, but no matter how many times I beat these damn NPCs nothing seems to work. And I’m just so angry, and—”

He cuts himself off, ready to scream.

Why would he say that?

The only response is another hum.

“Who are you,” Hongbin says carefully, “And what have you done to Cha Hakyeon?”

An offended noise, “I can be nice to you, once in a while.”

“Huh.”

“Do you want me to hang up?”

“No, no. Sorry.”

A pause, “Who are _you_?”

Hongbin doesn’t expect the laugh that spills out of his throat. “Shut up.”

Before he knows it he’s in the middle of a detailed narration of his entire week without being interrupted and being told to shut up. He talks and talks and talks— talks about Jaehwan, who’d broken up with his girlfriend, about his parents, about his progress in ACNH— and when the clock hits half past four he realizes that he’s just been talking non-stop for the past hour and a half and abruptly stops in the middle of a story involving Sanghyuk attempting to cook.

Hongbin pinches the bridge of his nose. He should probably just stop now, he hasn’t heard—

“Why’d you stop?”

Hongbin nearly drops his phone. “I… I’m pretty tired,” he says, words a little slow. He feels— _something_. In his stomach. He takes a deep breath. “I can sleep now, I think.”

“Alright,” Cha Hakyeon says blandly, “Great. Goodnight.”

“Good morning,” Hongbin says before he can stop himself.

On the other side of the call, he hears Hakyeon laugh.

And it sounds—

It sounds different.

Jaehwan sets his books loudly on top of the table, across Hongbin. Hongbin can feel Jaehwan’s eyes on him, heavy and unreadable and boring holes into his skull. He remains hunched over his notes, trying not to fidget under the weight of his best friend’s gaze. “Yeah?”

“Hongbin,” Jaehwan says. “Kong, look at me.” There’s an almost desperate note in his voice, in the way he says it, and Hongbin winces internally before looking up.

“We’re at a library,” Hongbin says. It’s a weak response, and all it does is make Jaehwan frown deeper. He digs his nails into the skin of his palm— not hard, just enough to distract.

Jaehwan clears his throat. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Hongbin can feel his heart stop.

“I’m not,” Hongbin says, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Jaehwan’s frown deepens. Hongbin wishes he would get mad, yell at him, swear at him for something he doesn’t even know Hongbin did. But instead his lower lip is quivering and his eyes are misting and _God_ , Hongbin wishes he’d just be _mad_.

“Don’t lie to me, Kong-ah,”

“I’m not,” Hongbin repeats, his voice thankfully stable. He goes back to pretending to read his book and keeping his breathing under control. He can hear Jaehwan’s sigh. He can feel Jaehwan’s disappointment. Jaehwan takes a seat, folding his arms over the table and laying his chin on them, still staring intently at Hongbin.

“You’ve been.” He stops. Hongbin looks at him, just for a second, and sees how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he looks to the wide. “You’ve been hanging out with Yeonie.”

Hongbin stops reading. From the corner of his eye he sees the way Jaehwan narrows his eyes, sees the cogs turning in his head like clockwork. Hongbin swallows, praying for the floor to please swallow him alive.

“You’ve never liked Yeonie,” Jaehwan says. Hongbin makes a face. Jaehwan doesn’t even sound accusing, just sad and confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s gone from resting his chin on his folded arms to staring at his lap. “And he’s never liked you. So why are you hanging out? He’s not even talking to me—”

“Jae,” Hongbin says, seeing the rising panic on Jaehwan’s face. He stands from his seat, making his way next to Jaehwan and holding his hands in his. “Jae,” he repeats. “Hey. Come on. Breathe. Calm down, okay?”

Jaehwan’s lip trembles. Hongbin squeezes his hands, trying to flash him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, okay? I’m just— I’m trying to get him to apologize. You deserve it.”

The lie tastes bitter and poisonous on his tongue, the acid of it coating his throat like bile. “You deserve it,” Hongbin repeats, because maybe if he says it enough he’ll wake up and discover all of this is, in fact, just some sort of messed up dream. “Alright?”

Jaehwan deserves it.

Jaehwan deserves— everything.

 _Jaehwan doesn’t deserve this_.

Jaehwan blinks.

“I don’t need you to do that for me,” he says— and his voice is impossibly _soft_ , and the way he squeezes Hongbin’s hands back makes Hongbin’s blood run cold, makes the guilt come crashing back in waves and he needs to go, he needs to run, get out of here and fast.

“I just need you to be here.” Jaehwan’s still holding his hands. His eyes are wide, open, honest— and Hongbin can’t do this, he can’t look Jaehwan in the eye and pretend to be a decent person. Jaehwan smiles weakly. “You’re my best friend.”

There have been several moments in Hongbin’s life where he felt a true, deep hatred for himself.

Breaking up with Jaehwan, for once— seeing that same weak smile, the tears in Jaehwan’s resigned voice, looking Jaehwan in the eye and seeing the exact moment his heart breaks.

But never has he felt it as strongly as he does now.

“You’re my best friend, too.” Hongbin’s voice is cracking, and he nearly chokes on the words. He tilts his head urgently in the direction of the wall clock, pulling his hands away from Jaehwan’s. “I gotta go.”

He gathers his things and holds them to his chest, muttering a quick, weak goodbye before ducking out of the library. He tries to pace his steps for the sake of avoiding suspicion, but the moment he’s far enough away, Hongbin runs.

The little field behind the school has always been Hongbin’s sanctuary.

He likes losing himself in the tranquillity of it. The sweet, fresh air and the near-silence. He likes looking at the plants, taking pictures of the same things from different angles. He likes sitting on the green grass and pretending to be somewhere else.

When he hears someone clear their throat from behind him, he expects it to be Jaehwan, chasing after him.

“Oh, you,” he says, mildly surprised when he sees that it’s Hakyeon with a pack of cigarettes in hand, already holding a stick between his index and middle fingers. “Hakyeon.”

He wonders how he’d feel if it really _had_ been Jaehwan who found him here.

“Hongbin,” Hakyeon says, raising his eyebrows. “Were you expecting someone else?”

The tightness in Hongbin’s chest returns. He stares off into the distance, ignoring the hollow ache he feels behind his ribs, the one that comes with the guilt, the one he can’t bring himself to understand. He swallows down the limp in his throat. “He really loved you, you know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hakyeon says, putting his cigarette between his teeth. He sits down next to him and takes out his lighter, flicking it and watching the tiny flame dance.

“He interrogated me earlier,” Hongbin says, because he doesn’t seem to have a filter anymore.

Hakyeon rolls his eyes. “Stop talking about him.” Smoke’s spilling out of his mouth.

“Then what should I talk about?” Hongbin snaps.

“You tell me,” Hakyeon says. “You’re the one who calls every night.”

Hongbin rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang the words send through him. “You’re the one who doesn’t hang up.”

“Touche.” Hakyeon takes another puff of the cigarette and sighs, billowing out smoke, and Hongbin can’t help but be drawn to the way his mouth looks around the stick. Hakyeon grins. Hongbin quickly tears his gaze away.

Hakyeon offers him the cigarette. “Want a hit?”

Hongbin stares at it for a moment, before he takes it.

So they sit there in silence, sharing a cigarette and staring at the grass. Occasionally they talk, and maybe sometimes Hongbin finds himself daring to sneak glances at Hakyeon, and maybe sometimes he catches Hakyeon looking back.

The cigarette burns too short to smoke eventually. Hakyeon plucks it from Hongbin’s lips and crushes it under his heel. He’s about to take another one out of his pocket when Hongbin catches his wrist and shakes his head.

For a long moment they just look at each other, stuck in time and lost in a place nobody can find but them, and it’s not long before Hongbin’s leaning forward to take Hakyeon’s lips in his.

Hakyeon tastes like smoke and bad decisions. He tastes like a drug Hongbin knows he won’t be able to quit.

There are emotions Hongbin can’t put a name to, rising from the deepest pits of his heart, and he pulls away before they can consume him. He stares at Hakyeon’s eyes, and they’re—

Different, again.

Like his laugh.

Like the tone behind his words.

“We can just sit here,” Hakyeon tells him, “And talk, and make out, and pretend everything’s okay in the world.”

Hongbin’s phone rings at 8 PM on a Saturday night. _Hakyeonnie_ , the user ID denotes— with a cheeky heart emoji that Hakyeon had put there when Hongbin hadn’t been looking— and it’s almost embarrassing how fast Hongbin moves to pick it up.

At a later time he would look back and wonder just _what_ had happened to him, what had changed, but even he doesn’t know the answer to that.

“I’m coming over,” Hakyeon says before Hongbin can even open his mouth to say anything, and just as he’s about to respond he’s interrupted by the flat beep of Hakyeon hanging up. Hongbin stares at his phone screen before turning it off, setting the device aside and putting a hand over his eyes.

Hongbin sits on his couch and turns the TV on and opens up a game to pass the time, only to catch himself reach over for his phone to check the time every few seconds. In the end he just puts his controller down off and resorts to pacing, the low blare coming from the video game humming in the background. He wrings his wrists, and tugs at the hem of his shirt, and tries not to stare in the general direction of the doorway as if willing Hakyeon to appear.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so anxious.

He doesn’t understand the nerves.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he does but he just won’t—

The doorbell cuts the thoughts off, and Hongbin tries not to feel too relieved, but his footsteps are loud as he rushes to answer the door, and his hand is shaking around the knob as he turns it to let Hakyeon in—

And as soon as the door opens, Hakyeon’s lips are on his, and his hands are on the sides of Hongbin’s face. His lips are soft. They don’t taste like cigarette smoke and lies, and they don’t feel like the flames of an inferno licking at Hongbin’s skin—

They’re just _warm_. Warm like the way Hongbin feels when he hears the rare music of Hakyeon’s genuine laughter, cheeks bunching up and eyes crinkling at the edges. Warm like the way Hongbin feels when he hears Hakyeon singing softly under his breath. Warm like the way Hongbin feels when he wastes the evening hours away talking to Hakyeon over the phone.

It’s warm in the way Hongbin wishes he never had to acknowledge.

Hongbin breaks away. His head is spinning, and fear has started to curl around his gut. “What’s this?”

“It’s what it is,” Hakyeon tells him simply. He kisses Hongbin again, in that sweet warm way that Hongbin doesn’t know how to deal with— and he’s not threading his fingers through Hongbin’s hair and pulling. He’s not slipping his hands under Hongbin’s shirt or fumbling at the buttons. He’s searching for Hongbin’s hand. And he’s lacing their fingers together and he isn’t pulling away.

There’s a strange intimacy that comes with lying in bed together after sex.

Hongbin’s never done it before, not since Jaehwan, and especially not with Hakyeon. But now they’re lying not quite under the covers and basking in the afterglow, and Hongbin can feel Hakyeon’s fingers ghost over his skin and brush Hongbin’s bangs out of his face while Hongbin feigns sleep.

And the guilt is there— it’s always there, waiting for a chance to make itself known— but right now it’s distant. Right now it’s overpowered by the soft vulnerability that comes with feeling Hakyeon’s body warmth next to him. Right now all he can feel is the pleasant sensation settling in his stomach, one Hongbin still can’t put a name to.

Hongbin has no idea how to feel about that.

“I can feel you thinking,” Hakyeon says, shifting in place. “It’s annoying.”

And just like that it’s back to how they are. How it’s supposed to be. Only now, it’s— somehow softer. Sweeter. More real.

“I think I fucked up,” Hongbin admits. He opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t turn his head to look Hakyeon in the eye.

“Well, save it,” Hakyeon says. “This is a limited time offer.”

Hakyeon presses a kiss gently on the blade of Hongbin’s shoulder before curling up next to him, eyes slipping shut. It makes butterflies flutter in Hongbin’s stomach. He can’t decide if he loves it or hates it.

But he looks at Hakyeon, lying peacefully next to him, and that mysterious force in his stomach flips again.

 _Oh,_ Hongbin thinks. _Okay_.

Hakyeon sitting across Hongbin at the breakfast table while they’re eating fried sunny-side up eggs that smell singed feels surreal. It’s quiet, save for the clinking of their metal utensils against the porcelain plates and the occasional mumble of asking for something to be passed. They don’t talk about last night. They don’t get up into each other’s faces and fight, either.

Thinking about it, Hongbin realizes they hadn’t even been doing much of that, lately.

But Hongbin smiles, and Hakyeon smiles back, and it feels like everything is alright with the world.

Then Hongbin tells him what he’d told Jaehwan.

The smile drops off Hakyeon’s face. “Oh.”

Hongbin looks at his food.

Hakyeon picks up his plate and puts it in the sink, its clatter when it hits the surface echoing shrilly across the room. Hongbin grimaces.

“I have to go,” Hakyeon says. He isn’t looking at Hongbin as he leaves. Hongbin wants to catch him by the wrist. Hongbin wants to pull him back, ask him to stay, but he only winces and keeps still.

Hongbin doesn’t deserve that much.

Hongbin tells himself it’s fine. It’ll be back to the way it used to be, before this whole mess, before it became too diluted and complicated for him to keep up with. It doesn’t matter.

Hongbin tells himself it’s _fine_ , even if he spends the entire weekend staring at his phone waiting for Hakyeon to call; pacing across his cramped apartment waiting for Hakyeon to pick up. He wraps himself up in sheets that are too cold. He keeps calling, because Hakyeon doesn’t block him or text back telling him to shut up. He keeps calling, because despite all of that Hakyeon doesn’t pick up or text back at all.

(Hongbin is a liar.)

And Monday through Wednesday is a mess. Hongbin trips a lot. He spends his free hours either staring at the TV or a computer screen, or holing himself up in his room waiting for the time to pass. The upside is that Jaehwan’s been observably happier, at least. Maybe it’s because Hongbin’s started hanging out with their friend group more again. He spends a lot of time in the library when he has to be in campus or looking past the crowds to catch a glimpse of Hakyeon.

Hongbin wants to apologize.

(Hongbin misses him.)

All of this is confessed to a voicemail who doesn’t ask him why he’d stopped rambling, instead cutting him off with a flat, monotone voice, telling him his voicemail limit has been reached.

Hakyeon never calls back.

Hongbin deletes the messages every morning.

And it had been inevitable, really, catching Hakyeon and Jaehwan uncomfortably close.

It had to happen, sooner or later.

And it’s what they deserve, Hongbin thinks.

That doesn’t make the sight of it hurt any less.

That doesn’t make the pain of Hongbin’s heart getting torn apart hurt any less.

Yet Hongbin can’t bring himself to look away, from where he’s sitting on a bench with Sanghyuk several yards from them and eating lunch together like close friends do.

Sanghyuk’s voice stabs through the silence. “So they’re back together.”

Hongbin swallows.

“Guess they are,” he says, ignoring the way his chest like it’s been pierced cleanly through with a hundred thousand razor-sharp arrows or being crushed under the insurmountable weight of a boulder and _Jesus Christ_ , he doesn’t think it should hurt this much, but it does. Hongbin can feel his eyes prickling. He swallows, staring up at the sky as if to keep the tears from rising. “Good for them.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t respond right away.

“Hey,” he finally says, “Why do you think… why do good people always choose the wrong people to love?”

The words feel like another fresh stab to the heart. Hongbin takes a moment to breathe, a million responses racing through his mind.

He hangs his head, closing his eyes, thinking of Jaehwan, of Hakyeon, of falling in love people he knows he’ll never reach.

“I guess,” he says, a small, bitter smile on his face, “I guess it’s because we choose the love we think we deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments would be cool hdhsj
> 
> Stay hydrated!!! <3


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